Taken anw-4

by John O'Brien

  “We still have to figure out the engineering to gear it into the pumps but we managed to get it upright,” Bannerman says behind me.

  “Yeah, I, um, see that. Nicely done,” I say. I’m in awe of the change in our surroundings and that only adds to the confusion that my waking has brought.

  “We also have walls around the hospital and are working on the housing development on McChord,” he adds.

  “Maybe I should pass out more often,” I say amazed at the progress. Yes, that’s how I’m going to refer to it — passing out.

  “Another day or two and we should be able to start bringing livestock in depending on how we want to prioritize that,” Bannerman says.

  I’m still too stunned to answer. One thing that does come to my attention is the odor I’m emitting. They apparently fed me and took care of me, for which I’m thankful, but there was a distinct lack of clothing changed. I’m surprised anyone can stand within twenty feet of me. I turn to head in to remedy that. The sun is low in the western sky signifying this day, whichever one it might be, is about to end. I hear the approach of vehicles.

  “Who’s that coming in?” I ask.

  Lynn, Bannerman, Robert, and Bri all turn toward the entrance road. They stand shielding their eyes from the sun. “What do you mean, Jack? I don’t see a thing,” Lynn finally says.

  That’s another thing I notice, the overly brightness of the day I had in the days previous, well, weeks I guess, isn’t as bad as it was. It still seems bright out but not blindingly so. “No, I mean the ones I hear coming in. Who’s out?” I ask.

  Lynn looks at me with her sidelong expression that says she’s trying to figure something out. It’s her ‘what the fuck’ look. “We have teams out for the walls and escorts for the trucks. They should be returning shortly,” she answers.

  “That must be them then,” I say. Now I’m getting funny looks from all everyone.

  “What?” I reply to those looks.

  “Nothing,” Lynn answers.

  This is a day for confusion as I hear vehicles approaching and they should be at least showing up on the entrance road by now. I shrug and turn to head back in to take care of my offensive nature. Just then several Humvees appear in the distance over the entrance road hill. Following are several semi’s with shipping containers on their trailers. Lynn gives me her ‘what the fuck’ expression again.

  “How in the hell did you hear them, Jack?” She asks.

  “I just did. Must have just been a trick of nature, the way sound was carrying, or something,” I answer but am confused myself. It seemed so clear that they should have crested the hill long before they did. Maybe they stopped or something.

  “Yeah, well, the ‘trick of nature’ didn’t work for me,” she says. “And I know your hearing ability, Jack. It’s non-existent.” I am about to do the ‘huh, didn’t hear you’ thing but realize this isn’t the time. I’m not in the mood to get my ass kicked just now.

  “I really don’t know. I just heard them, that’s all,” I say fully realizing that my times of selective hearing are over.

  “Hmm,” is her only response.

  I head into Cabela’s to change as the vehicles pull to a stop outside. To be honest, I don’t feel very comfortable having heard the vehicles from so far. My hearing has been shot for years from jet engines and gunfire. I shrug the uncomfortable feeling away thinking it was just sound carrying on the wind. Sometimes one person will hear something another right beside them doesn’t due to whatever filters they have going on in their mind at the time.

  In the shower, the thought returns and parts of previous missions filter through my mind. Most of the thoughts center around the senses and I think about the sights, sounds, and smells trying to fit them into hearing the vehicles from so far away. The dampness and heat of the jungle with its associated smell of mulch; the dry arid air of the desert. I think back and know I was always the first in our team to see movement but then I’ve always had good eyesight. I was also able to smell them first. Another funny thing is that, with my hearing loss, I was usually able to hear things out on a mission first as well. I know, go figure, right?

  I remember one time when I first starting going out with the teams. Even though I had rank, that mattered little when out in the field. It was a matter of experience. With that, I was put in the fifth position — second from last — and carried the spare radio, batteries, extra med gear, and anything else the others didn’t want to carry. We were on a solely recon mission to locate the base camp of a local guerilla group. I won’t say where but let’s just say that it involved a lot of double and triple canopy.

  We were paralleling a moderately used path in a small draw that ran between two steep ridgelines extending from an even larger ridgeline to our front. The terrain wasn’t too steep along the path that ran close beside a fast moving creek coming off the ridge; running over smooth gray, water-worn rocks and forming small pools with silt beds. Intel had put a possible location for the camp at the head of the creek and that is the area we were creeping toward. The path showed recent movement where we intersected it and began our climb. The dense underbrush made our going slow as silence was the key. It wouldn’t do at all for anyone to hear us and give them the advantage of knowing where we were without us knowing where they were.

  It was later in the afternoon and about an hour and a half into our climb. The air finally started dropping from its sweltering temperature well into the nineties and humidity running around 267%. — well, that’s what it felt like. We made several forays to the creek, always careful to cover our tracks, to fetch a resupply of water. I remember thinking I really hoped the guerillas at the camp, which was supposedly at the head of the fast-moving water, weren’t using the creek as their latrine and laundry. With that thought, I plopped in another iodine tablet.

  I suddenly had this bad feeling come over me. Not necessarily a sense of impending doom, but more that we were not alone and shared this vine-laden, towering tree-clad, tall fern and bush section of the world. With this feeling came the faint scent of unwashed bodies. I looked at our teammate in the drag position and then at the one in front. They gave no indication they felt or smelled anything. They just continued the climb with the person in the drag position covering our tracks. Being the newbie, I didn’t want to say anything about the feeling thinking it was just nerves as we closed in on the reported position. Still, there was the odor. I crept up to the fourth man in line when we halted for our usual twenty meter stop.

  “What is it, Walker?” He whispered as I tapped him on the shoulder. He spoke over his shoulder still covering his area.

  “I smell body odor,” I said. He sniffed several times and gave the ‘really, we brought this guy with us’ look.

  “Seriously, I smell something,” I said trying not to shrink under the look but without much success.

  “Eagle six, Comers here,” he said into his throat mic.

  “Go ahead, Comers. What’s up?” Our team leader answered.

  “Walker here says he smells something,” Comers replied.

  I soon made out the crouched, shadowy figure of our team leader — I can’t for the life of me remember his name — make his way to us. He kneeled next to us and sniffed the air.

  “I don’t smell shit. Did you overdo the uppers?” He asked thinking I was having a case of the nerves.

  I could see the frustration and disgust in his eyes thinking he made a mistake in bringing me along. The jungle already smelled of rot and decay but there is a distinct smell that a body long removed from soap and water gives off. I could still catch an occasional whiff of that very distinct aroma.

  “No, I haven’t taken any. Adrenaline is doing me just fine for now,” I answered. “With the cooling of the day, the air is settling into this draw. I swear it’s there,” I answered whispering. See, I had spent many hours with my grandfather in the woods. The amount of knowledge he had about the woods could never be imparted in a single lifetime but I absorbed all he off
ered and thirsted for more.

  “It could be coming from the reported camp ahead then,” he said.

  “It was stronger about twenty meters behind us so I think whatever is causing it is on the ridge line above us,” I said. Some of the previous disgust left his eyes but not entirely. I could see some indecision as he contemplated our next move.

  “I could sneak up the ridge a ways and take a look,” I said quietly thinking that seeing I was already in for a penny, I might as well be in for the whole pound. I remember him calling to our point man to find a dense section of brush to hole up in.

  “We need a rest anyway. Comer, go with him but Walker, if you’re wrong, this is your last time out,” he said and crept back up to his position.

  I’ll never forget Comer’s look and the shake of his head. Here was a noob with a case of nerves and he had to go babysit. Looking back, I can’t say I blame him. We moved into thick brush before Comer and I moved out.

  “Okay, Walker, let’s go look for your phantoms,” he said as we parted leafy fronds and slowly moved out. We crept up the steep ridge angling back toward where I first smelled them. We had made it about half way up the ridge when he turned.

  “Okay, I smell them too,” he said and radioed back. “Eagle six, Comer.”

  “Go ahead,” the reply came back.

  “What do you know? The noob was right. Do you want us to proceed and get a visual or wait?” Comer asked.

  “Come back and guide us in,” Eagle six responded. We found the camp about three-quarters of the way up on a flattened section of the ridge and reported its location. Nope, this wasn’t my last invite with the team and was eventually moved up to point before moving to a different team and set of missions entirely. I did seem to have elevated senses in the field so perhaps Lynn is right, maybe I do have selective hearing.

  “Are you okay in there?” I hear Lynn call from the shower room door.

  “Yeah, just fine. I’ll be out in a moment,” I answer although thoughts of inviting her in invade my mind momentarily. I hear the door closing shutting off my chances altogether.

  I turn the water off and towel dry. Wiping the fog from the mirror, I see an entirely different person. Although there is still a hint of dark circles under my eyes, those have mostly vanished. I’m startled to notice the scratch on my neck has healed. I also notice my body has tightened up to a degree. I always tried to keep in shape but gravity seemed to be winning that battle as of late. However, the man looking back in the steamy glass is a previous version of me. The morning training seems to have had some affect.

  I don a fresh set of fatigues and head outside. The smell of dinner wafts down from the restaurant upstairs. Lynn is ever present at my side not trusting my ability to move on my own. The kids and I meet as usual and I notice a different light in Bri’s eyes. I can’t quite put my finger on it but there is a definite sharpness to them. For that matter, there is the same change in Robert’s eyes as well.

  Our meeting is the usual recap except it’s a bit longer and focuses more on the past to catch me up. Bannerman is working to engineer an attachment for the wind turbine to the water pump. The barns, stables, greenhouses, and other pens are almost complete. He notes that we are close to being ready to locate and bring in livestock in addition to starting to plant. He found a housing development area not far from our base and started clearing the land for agriculture. Frank mentions that the night runners appear to be carnivorous so the fields won’t need to be protected from them. Others in the area, meaning bandits and marauders, “well, if we want to protect against them, we’ll have to put up barriers.”

  “We won’t be able to plant those fields until next year anyway,” Bannerman chimes in.

  Bannerman talks about wanting to bring a water tower in next and have the turbine and water pump supply the tower. He also talks of having to treat the water in the tower but with the projects currently underway, he says this can wait until those are finished.

  “Even if we do move up to the bases, we’ll still need a supply of water here for the livestock and greenhouses,” he says concluding his remarks.

  Lynn tells about the first group completing phase two of their training ahead of schedule and the second group being a few weeks into their training.

  “So, do we continue with our plan and move people up there? We can keep both places with this one mainly being for livestock though I see the need to keep people here as well,” I ask.

  “I think we should finish the walls but I think it’d be better to wait until we have more teams trained before we think about splitting our resources,” Lynn says.

  “You’re probably right. Besides, it’s going to take us some time to clear the housing areas let alone the other parts of the base we want to use,” I say. “Bannerman, you said the wall was complete around the hospital?”

  “Yes, it’s been complete for a little while,” he answers.

  “What about tackling this one and clearing it out before venturing to the distribution centers? I also haven’t forgotten about heading off to locate families,” I say.

  “I suppose it’s as good as any,” Lynn says but I see Drescoll grimace.

  “What’s the look for?” I ask.

  “That place is huge. I’m not even sure we could clear that out with all of the teams we have,” he says.

  “Let’s take the teams up tomorrow and have a look then,” I reply.

  “Leaving two teams here for protection, right?” Lynn states.

  “Of course,” I respond.

  We break and head to our rooms for the night with me thinking they don’t really need me. They’ve accomplished miracles in my absence. It’s not that I feel useless. Quite the contrary, I’m happy they kept everything going. I feel a little tension leave my body realizing this place will continue to function and hopefully survive should something happen to me. It’s still my kids I worry about. They have their mom now so the question of being orphaned is less of a player, but I still have that parental side that I don’t think ever leaves.

  I wake the next morning feeling even more vibrant. I head out for a training run with the others and am surprised when it ends. I do notice Bri’s eagerness during the training. Both she and Robert are right in front listening when they should and are totally engaged in the training exercises. They almost look disappointed when it ends.

  “Dad?” Bri says as we are heading back in.

  “Yeah, hon,” I reply.

  “What team am I getting assigned to?” She asks.

  This both startles and scares the shit out of me. I feel my heart leap in my chest. Well, it doesn’t exactly leap but more comes to a complete stop and then starts again after some hesitation. I guess I should have been expecting this but didn’t really. I just wanted them trained and never imagined her actually being on a team. Reasons why she can’t be put on one circulate. I think about pulling her age thing out of a hat.

  “Talk to Lynn about that,” I answer.

  “Oh, hell no, you are not throwing that on me, Jack,” Lynn says from behind me. There goes that brush off of responsibility. Ugh!

  “Dad, I finished training and want to be on a team,” Bri says.

  “I know, sweetheart, but you’re too young to be on a team,” I respond.

  “Daaad?” She says.

  There is that sad puppy dog look that has always worked in times past. I honestly can’t be trusted when that look comes around. That must be the same with every dad and his daughter the world around.

  “Sir, she can be an honorary member of Red Team and hang with me,” Gonzalez says putting an arm around Bri.

  I honestly had no idea Gonzalez was anywhere remotely close. I give her a look that would freeze fire. This is my girl and here she is offered something that will put her in danger when I just want to keep her safe. I feel the same regarding Robert but, well, this is different.

  “If that’s okay with you, sir,” Gonzalez adds seeing my look.

  “Pleeeease, sir
,” Gonzalez continues mimicking Bri’s sad puppy dog look. My scowl vanishes and is replaced with a chuckle. I know I’ve been beaten and it wasn’t even that hard to do.

  “Okay, but Gonzalez, she doesn’t go into buildings,” I say.

  “Bri, you become permanently attached to her like you’re change in her pocket,” I add talking to Bri.

  “Okay, Dad,” Bri replies with a grin.

  Both her and Gonzalez walk off with Gonzalez’ arm still around Bri’s shoulder but not before I hear Gonzalez say, “See, just like I said, hold it close.” I shake my head having my complete lack of understanding women validated.

  “Jack?” I hear Lynn, still behind me, question my decision.

  “I don’t want to talk about it. It’s done,” I say and start inside once again. I feel sick to my stomach.

  “You did the right thing,” Robert tells me as we head to the showers.

  “I don’t know, Robert. I just don’t know,” I respond.

  “Bri has done well in her training. I think she’ll surprise you. I know she has me,” he says to which I merely nod. This really, really sucks, I think as we open the locker room door.

  We eat and the teams gather to head to the hospital. The sound of multiple metal doors shutting rebounds off the walls of our haven as we board Humvees. Pieces of machinery start up across our compound. In our little place in the world, sound accompanies a gathering of people bringing a little reality back into our existence. Driving out of the gate, our convoy turns north for Fort Lewis.

  We pull onto the base and park near steel gates, similar to the ones Bannerman had built in our own wall. These aren’t nearly as wide but look forbidding nonetheless. The twenty foot concrete wall hides a lot of the hospital but the upper floors tower above the perimeter. The walls have been built around an oval road that encircles the complex. There is a giant lock on the bar holding the door shut. We undo the lock and open the heavy doors. Driving inside, I notice the gates have been constructed to be shut from the inside and out. Turning my gaze to the hospital, I am struck by the immensity of the place. If you’ve ever been to Madigan hospital, you’ll know exactly what I mean. The white, eight-story building in front shields a giant complex of buildings behind. I have driven by a couple of times but have never actually looked at it closely. Thus my, ‘why don’t we start here’ phrase the night before and Drescoll’s look.